For Us
by WindowChild
Summary: The story of the previous generation. The Donners, Haymitch, the Everdeens and the Mellarks, finding their way through the Games, whippings and the cruel life of District 12.
1. Class Acts

A/N: As with "My Little Flour" (my other fic), here are the names I am using for the unnamed characters. Lillian is Mrs. Everdeen, Eric is Mr. Everdeen, Grant is Mr. Mellark and Agnes is Mrs. Mellark. Also, Emmeline Donner is Madge's mother. And, although he won't be a main, Mayor Undersee's first name will be Walter. Also, expect a few cameos from Hazelle and maybe Greasy Sae or Darius. And don't worry, Haymitch will definitely be in it – just not this chapter : ). Thanks for clicking everyone!

Quick, insistent fingers hit Lillian's shoulder. With a sigh, she realized it must be Maysilee. Maysilee was the only one who could achieve such impatience over every little move.

"Lilly," she said, doing a pitiful job of whispering. "Can Emmeline and I come over after school?"

Lillian glanced hurriedly up at the teacher, Mr. Bode. Any lapse in attention during school had recently been considered a direct offense of the Capitol's educational plan. You never knew when a whip or a lashing could come flying at you, seemingly from nowhere.

Once she made sure that his eyes were directed the other way, she nodded as discreetly as she could. Reckless Maysilee might have had the nerve to speak during class, but she certainly didn't. Of course, her little nod caught Grant's attention.

"What?" he whispered, tugging her sleeve.

She panicked without meaning to, her mouth seizing up in fear that they'd be caught. Her friends were far too intrepid to leave her feeling comfortable during school hours.

"They're coming over," she mouthed back, moving as little as she could. Luckily for her, Grant was very good at reading lips. He could understand her classroom communication better than anyone. There was a beat, as he nodded, and then she asked the inevitable. Would he like to come as well?

Grant nodded, grinning the way he always did for her. Only recently had their friendship begun to tighten its hinges into something more mature. Now, every stray comment sounded as if it were romantic and exciting. Lillian could tell that Grant liked it, but her own feelings were still a bit confused.

The lesson continued at a lethargic pace, Lillian wincing every time she heard paper rustling behind her. The twins had the noisy habit of passing notes, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why they would risk it.

It was about five minutes from the end of the period that she noticed Agnes Brower glaring at them. Not at any one of them, but more at the group as a whole. Her eyes were narrowed, in the way that an animal's are before it pounces.

Straightening her thin lips into a line, Lillian kept her own gaze pinned on the girl. Agnes was violent and angry, prone to lashing out when her mood was sour. Once, when they'd been very small, she'd hit Emmeline in the jaw. She was passed off as a harmless bully by most of the class, but Lillian always watched for her. In addition to her fits of aggression, she seemed to be unusually calculating. The swipes and jibes that her classmates received were often the result of grudges.

At last, the bell rang. Lillian let out a sigh of relief, scribbling down the last bits of homework. She and her friends often waited behind for a few minutes, until the crowds dispersed. Otherwise, they would get swept up and never find their way out.

Once Mr. Bode left – whip in hand – Lillian turned to her friends.

"Thanks for letting us come over," Emmeline said, her tiny teeth parted in a smile. They came over nearly every day, although Lillian could never understand why. While none of them lived in the Seam, the Donners were marginally wealthier than she. Lillian could never understand why they would want to spend any of their time away from the sweetshop.

Grant swiveled in his chair, blue eyes twinkling. "Only two more months until the end. I've been keeping count."

Emmeline and Maysilee tittered with delight, but Lillian felt her stomach acids whirl in discomfort. The end of school meant the reaping. Her friends barely worried, figuring the odds were in their favor, but she got sick with nerves every year. There was always a chance, no matter how slim it was. And whoever was chosen, it was usually someone they knew.

"Should we go then?" Maysilee asked, glancing to the window. "It looks like everyone's gone."

"Yes," Lillian agreed. As she watched the way Maysilee's eyes remained glued to the students out front, she gave a fraction of a smirk. It was common knowledge that Maysilee wanted to go with an upperclassman to the District festival. Ballsy and attractive, she made a sort of sport out of chasing the boys she couldn't have. It didn't matter whether it was the most pathetic event of the year; she would be going with the most desirable date.

Shoulder to shoulder, the four left the building with smiles on their faces. Another day was over. It was only once they made it through the sprawling doors of the school that they found an unwanted surprise.

"You shouldn't have done that, today." Agnes stood stretched in front of them, hands on her hips. Her lank hair fell lamely down from her scalp, making it look almost as if it were a wig.

"Done what?" Lillian asked, surprised.

Maysilee grabbed her arm. "Come on," she hissed, just loudly enough for Agnes to hear, "We don't need to listen." Emmeline nodded in agreement, frowning.

"Been so rude!" Agnes continued, ignoring them. She was speaking directly to Lillian, it seemed. "You could have gotten us all in trouble, for talking the way you did."

Lillian flushed. That's what she had thought too, although she'd never admit it.

"Oh, give it up Agnes," Maysilee said. "You're just jealous because you don't have anyone to talk to you." Her pretty features were marred by anger, and she reacted with a shriek when Agnes lunged at her.

"That's enough." Grant stepped between them, batting away Agnes's hands with ease. "_This _could get us all in trouble." He frowned, first at Agnes and then at Maysilee. She was an instigator, even if she didn't mean to be. Emmeline rushed over, gripping her sister's hand and staring down Agnes with contempt.

Surprisingly, Agnes's cheeks turned red. She swung her shoulders away from them, glaring at one and all as she stalked off. Lillian nearly pitied her.

With a sigh, Grant patted Maysilee's shoulder. "You're alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Good. Then let's keep walking."

The sister's kept in front, hands grasped together. Without even hearing their words, Lillian knew they were making fun of Agnes.

"Her mother died this winter, you know," Grant said quietly.

"Huh?" Lillian replied.

"Agnes. Her mother died over the winter."

"Oh." She hadn't known that. "Oh," she repeated. Still, It didn't excuse anything. She did know it was hard, though. Losing a parent. One of their less-close friends had lost their father a few years back. It had been an awful year.

"She doesn't mean harm," Grant continued. "She just wants to make sure none of us get whipped. That's what her mom died of, you know. The Peacekeepers tortured her."

"Oh…" This time Lillian sounded much more sympathetic. That was awful, then. Agnes was only trying to protect them. But as she glanced over at her incensed best friends, she felt the pressing need to be loyal. "She's a bully anyway," she said, "She was before then."

Grant frowned, shaking his head. "You should know better than that, Lilly. It's not her fault." Lilly. Unlike with most relationships, he used her nickname when he was upset with her.

She refused too met his eyes. "Why do you need to protect her, anyway?"

"Because," he said, sounding impatient for once, "Someone has to!" He got this way, sometimes. He was passionate when he didn't mean to be, and it sometimes drew a rift between them. Lillian was not nearly as fiery.

At this point they'd made it to her house, and the arguing sunk into the ground. They could never stay angry with each other for very long.

"What's that noise?" Lillian mused, thinking out loud. It sounded as if there were forty people inside.

Emmeline's careful fingers peeled the door away from the frame, revealing the small crowd inside. It was only five people, including Lillian's parents. However, they were all shouting.

"Get the numbing!" her mother shouted, rushing towards the cabinet to get it herself.

"Please Mrs. Everdeen," Lillian's father said, trying to soothe one of the other women. "You're son's going to be just fine."

"He was hit so many times," she wailed, her husband's arm going around her. "All because he couldn't – couldn't - "

Finally, Lillian's father noticed her in the doorway. "Good, you're home. We need you in here." He winced, noticing the other three children. "You'll have to come back later," he said to them, sounding apologetic. "We need her help."

The girls gave Lillian a hug. "He was hurt?" Emmeline whispered, sounding saddened.

"Punished, I guess," Lillian replied into her ear. They'd yet to see the punishments themselves, but they'd heard just how terrible they could be. They were often for the slightest of things, and sometimes nearly deadly. She wasn't sure what had sparked it, but the Peacekeepers had suddenly achieved a new altitude of violence and cruelty.

"Who is he?" Maysilee asked.

"I don't know," Lillian replied.

"They said Everdeen…" Maysilee said, thinking. "Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "That must be the boy in eleventh year."

"Eleventh?" She didn't know the older grades the way her friends did. They were in ten themselves.

Maysilee nodded. "What do you think he got it for?"

Lillian shook her head uncertainly, catching her father's warning eye. It was time for her friends to leave. "I'll come by later, alright?"

"Alright," the girls replied. Grant lingered a moment longer, staring into the room. He looked as if he had something to say.

"What?" Lillian asked, her hand resting on the door.

There was a pause, and he shook his head. "Nothing. I'll see you later."

"Okay," she replied, hesitating. He turned and walked away from the house, and she shut the door behind him.

"Lillian!" her father called, above the din of the crying and rushing around. "We need you over here!"

She winced. Her parents rarely asked her to help, only in emergency. This must have been terrible. She raced over, going to her father's side.

With a gasp, she took in the sight of the young man before her. He hardly looked human, under so much blood.

Her gut twisted and squirmed, and at first she didn't understand the reason. Then, with a start, she realized the sensation was one of desire. Her eyes had suddenly registered his face, mostly unmarred by blood or marks. Even after the duration of punishment, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

A/N: Lots more to come, with the other characters was well : ). Also, this is unrelated, but if anyone from HGT is reading this – my computer won't let me onto the site; is it my computer's fault, or is the site down? Anyway, thanks for reading, I would love it if you find time in your day to review!


	2. Doctor's Orders

A/N: I made a small edit to the last chapter, removing the mistake I made about the Seam. Anyway, I'm sorry it's been a while. Luckily, I have more time to write now that I'm on winter vacation. Thanks for reading!

Lillian danced around their foyer in a cold, focused race against time. And blood, she thought, grimacing at the sight of the boy's leaking chest. "Lillian?" her father called, his motions as steady and controlled as hers. "Have you got the bandage?"

"I'm applying it now," Lillian called back.

"Good," he said, exhaling. "I'm getting the pain medication ready."

"Does that - does that mean he'll be waking up soon?" Mrs. Everdeen asked, her dark eyes shiny with tears.

"Yes," Lillian replied. "Hopefully, with the medicine, the pain won't be too much." She hadn't meant to say something of concern - the phrase held hardly more than conversational value in her mind - but her words seemed to release Mrs. Everdeen's tears.

"Shh," her husband said gently, putting an arm around her.

"He'll be fine," Lillian added quickly. "It will just hurt for a little while." She took a deep, silent breath, as she always did before working with an open wound. It was a simple, unobtrusive way of keeping herself at ease. She pulled away the savaged remnants of his shirt, biting her tongue at the sight. Lillian could handle unpleasant smells and images better than most, but this was a stretch even for her. The whip marks were obvious; deep, purple slits had been drawn into the boy's skin.

"Oh," Mrs. Everdeen gave a faint gasp. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Lillian's mother went forward, her gentle fingers reaching for the other woman's. "Here, why don't you come with me into the back. You can get some rest."

"I couldn't," Mrs. Everdeen insisted, shaking her head. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

"Go with her, Grace," her husband said. His voice held a quiet authority to it, and Mrs. Everdeen nodded with reluctance.

"We'll get you if anything happens," Lillian's mother promised.

"Thank you," she replied meekly. They left the room, arm in arm.

"Be straight with me, sir," Mr. Everdeen asked, his powerful voice spreading through the room like wildfire. "Is he going to heal?"

Lillian's eyes flickered to her father, who was concentrating on medicinal herbs with a deaf ear. He had not heard, and it was left to her to answer. "He will," she promised. "It might be painful," she reiterated. "But he should be fine."

The man nodded, his jaw shifting up and down. After a moment, Lillian noticed with embarrassment that tears had welled in his eyes. She blushed, turning the breadth of her attention to the task at hand.

"Thank you for healing him," Mr. Everdeen said hoarsely. "Some... some might not have, for fear of getting caught."

"We aren't some people," Lillian's father replied loudly, his voice just as strong and forceful as Mr. Everdeen's. Lillian felt a rush of pride for her father's stubborn dignity, and realized he had been listening the entire time. "We don't believe in these whippings," he said softly.

According to him, there had been a time before the whippings. Things had been never been good, food had been scarce, but nowhere near the realm of danger they orbited now. Sometimes, with an ounce of selfish desperation, Lillian wished for those days. She wished for the old District 12. She'd told Grant once or twice, and he'd smiled and asked her not to be such a realist. If you're wishing, he'd said, you may as well wish for the whole world. He'd said he'd wish for before then, even, before the Games and the Reaping. Before Panem. A surprising shudder raced down Lillian's spine, and she threw the remainder of her thoughts back to the boy on the table. Right now, if she did her job correctly, the world should hold only the two of them. If she was a true healer, she would be able to push the rest away.

She dipped her fingers into a cool, clear liquid, brushing it across the top of his chest. His tawny skin felt like cloth to the touch: soft but somehow made of smaller pieces. Staring at the black strands of his chest hair, stained with dried blood, she wondered foolishly if they were the threads holding him together. "The bandages are on, Dad," she said quietly, putting the last strand of white linen in place.

He nodded curtly, striding over to the table's side. "Alright. Why don't you check him for other problems. The chest was the one we noticed, but there could be other scrapes. Also, see if you can clean him off."

"Okay," Lillian replied. Without thinking about it, merely following her ordinary steps of practice, she peeled away the remainder of his clothes. Gaping, startled by the mindlessness with which she'd complied, she forced her actions back to productivity. Emmeline and Madge would be laughing their heads off right now, she thought wryly.

Eyes trained with unusual precision on the floor, Lillian obeyed orders. She soaped and scrubbed his other marks, including a few other imposing gashes that had gone untreated. As she wiped a trail of sweat from her brow, she wondered how the patient would feel when he woke up. He'd lost so much blood; it was hopeful to say he'd feel some pain, more logical to say he might not survive the feeling at all.

"I think we ought to wake him," her father whispered, coming to her side.

"Really?" Lillian asked. For one reason or another, she dreaded the idea. Together, their lines of sight travelled magnetically to the doorway. The mothers had never returned, and this hopefully meant that Mrs. Everdeen had calmed down.

"Perhaps we should do it without them?" Lillian's father asked the room at large. "I don't want... I don't want anything making him feel worse."

"No," Mr. Everdeen replied, shaking his head. He stepped between the father and daughter pair, his overwhelming size all the more impressive up close. "My wife will never forgive herself if she isn't here."

"Alright. I'll get her," Lillian's father said, sighing. While it seemed right for Mrs. Everdeen to help her own son, Lillian did understand her father's wishes. If she got hysterical, the boy might feel frightened upon waking up.

They came back, and Lillian was pleased to find that her mother had done an excellent job at sooth Mrs. Everdeen. Lillian smiled, listening with a vague ear as her father explained the idea to them.

"Oh I don't care," Mrs. Everdeen said, her voice warbling again. "I don't mind if he isn't himself. I only want to make sure he can still - can still wake up."

"Well, that is the idea. Lillian, do you want to get the smelling salts? They're in the top cabinet." Again, Lillian followed orders with an habitual amount obedience and care.

"Would you do the honors?" her father asked. He held the numbing medicine in hand, ready to thrust it through the boy's lips.

She nodded, bracing herself for whatever jolt of pain might lie behind his eyelids, and opened the small cap to the bottle. She held it right beneath his nose, her heartbeat quickening as she watched his nostrils twitch. All at once, his eyelids fluttered open. He stared blankly up at them for a moment, and then promptly moaned and reached for his chest.

"Stop," Lillian said instinctively, her voice filled with warm inflections. She reached for his hand, letting him sprain her bones as he squeezed her fingers together. He let out a sharp yelp, then another guttural groan. Lillian's father stepped forward, slipping the medicine down his throat as he opened his mouth to shout. He promptly spit it onto Lillian's wrist, unable to bear the toxic, bitter taste.

"You must drink it," Lillian said softly, stroking his cheek as tenderly as she dared. When she was with patients, she hardly thought about the little moves she made. Everything felt necessary and called for. "It's the only way you'll feel better." The boy pulled his top row of teeth against his bottom lip, and Lillian realized that he was trying to listen to her. This time, she did the job of the spoon. Anxiety swelled in her lungs as he made a gagging sound, and then rushed away with relief as she watched him swallow. She dropped his hand, shifting away from the table as Mrs. Everdeen rushed forward.

"Oh Eric," his mother sobbed. "We were so worried. Why would you go exploring like that?" she blubbered, clutching his scraped hands against her cheeks. Mr. Everdeen shushed her promptly, glancing with apprehension at Lillian's family. Obviously his gratitude did not extend to trust; he worried what they'd do with the knowledge that his son had been... "exploring". Lillian's parents did not react, being well versed with this sort of secrecy, but Lillian's own lips dropped in surprise. That was the kind of thing they heard about in school; that was the kind of thing you could get shot for.

"Lillian, fetch some pillows and blankets from your room alright?" her mother asked. Again, she did as she was told. The night continued in a calmer manner, the boy's - Eric's - parents eventually falling asleep on Lillian's bed. She took a spare blanket and pillow, curling up on the living room couch. They were from the merchant class, perhaps, but they did not live a life of luxury. The two bedrooms were all they had.

A whimpering sound came suddenly from the tabletop, and Lillian rushed over. She stared, unabashed, into the eyes of the injured boy. He was gritting his teeth, obviously suppressing a more alarming noise of pain.

"Would you like more numbing solution?" Lillian asked gently. "It's probably worn off."

"Is that the stuff from before?" Lillian felt her insides grow slimy and clamp together, surprised. He had the same deep, shocking voice as his father.

"Yes."

He grimaced. "No thank you." Then, a small attempt at a smile. "I think I'll bear it."

"You did very well," Lillian replied. "It sometimes takes an hour to get it down the patient's throat."

He nodded empathetically with those before him, then abruptly began to cough. "I can still taste it."

"Shh, I'll get you water," she said quietly, touching a hand over his mouth. "Don't cough, you'll upset the bandages." Again, he did his best to listen, biting his lips to keep from choking on the unpleasant taste.

"Here." When it became clear he was unable to drink himself, she gently poured sip after sip into his mouth. "Do you think you'd like to gargle with it?" she asked.

He shook his head, trying to smile. "No, thanks, this fine." He took a tentative swallow, making an "Ah," sound with his breath. "Much better." He tried to sit up, but Lillian pushed him back against the pillows.

"Don't. You have to stay there until your chest heals."

He made a face. "I can't move at all?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "It will only start hurting more."

"Well what am I supposed to do?" 'Exploring'... it was clear he was the adventurous type, unused to sitting still.

"I can't talk to you if you like," Lillian replied. She promptly flushed, reverted to her ordinary nervous habits. When she wasn't under the ax of death, her demeanor shifted from confident to shy and awkward.

"Alright." He smiled. "You're a few years younger than me, aren't you?"

"Only a year, I think. You're in eleventh?"

"Yeah."

"How does it... feel? Being so close to graduating." She meant, almost without thinking about it, how did it feel to have only two Reapings left. She imagined it would be wonderful.

Eric's expression darkened. "I'll have to work in the mines in a little over a year, is how it feels."

"Oh..."

"How does it feel to you, being so young?" he asked, a grin on his face, clearly desiring to change the subject.

'Dreadful' and 'terrifying' were the first words that came to mind, but Lillian bit them back. She was not one to speak her mind. "It's alright."

"Yeah," he replied, scornfully.

"Shh," she hushed him. "Not so loud." Her eyes went to the door, almost as if she feared getting caught. "We'll talk more in the morning."

"What?" he looked disappointed, and Lillian felt an inexplicable fluctuation of her pulse.

"You need rest." She gave him a little smile. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

A/N: Don't worry, there will be more with more of the characters soon (I hope). :) In case you care about grades, Haymitch is in 11th like Eric and Mayor Undersee is in 12th. Also, I would say Gale's dad is in 12th and Hazelle has already graduated. And all of the rest are sophomores. Reviews are always loved : ).


	3. Humiliation Galore

A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that, school was just crazy this year! Luckily, I AM NOW ON SUMMER BREAK! *ahem* Now that we've gotten that out of the way, onto the story… thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! ... And yes, the chapter title is a Princess Bride quote :P.

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As it happened, Lillian missed her chance to speak more with Eric. He awoke with fever and delirium, and slept for another two days. By then the weekend was out, and Lillian was forced to return to school.

Cool air blowing on her face, she tried to downplay the whole affair. For one reason or another, she wanted to keep it private. "He'll be alright," she insisted, shrugging Emmeline and Maysilee away. "Don't look at me like that."

Emmeline smiled her knowing smile, left arm in her sister's right. "He was handsome, Lilli. The handsomest boy in his grade, I'd say. For a Seam boy anyway," she added, thoughtfully.

Grant cleared his throat pointedly. He'd neglected to participate in most of the morning's discussion and seemed altogether pleased that Lillian didn't wish to talk about it. "Why don't we leave Lillian alone," he said, not unkindly. "She said he's going to be fine."

"You know who's better looking than Eric?" Maysilee asked suddenly, a wicked expression on her pretty face. "_And _he's from the merchant class." Of all of them, Maysilee cared most about keeping within social boundaries. There was nothing _specifically _wrong with a merchant marrying someone from the Seam class, but it wasn't often done.

"Who?" Emmeline asked, curious.

"Walter Undersee." A small, sly smile found her lips, and she strode ahead with confidence. "I'm going to ask him to the festival," she added, turning her head over her shoulder.

Once she was out of earshot, Emmeline gave a little gasp. "No…"

"What?" Grant asked. He came between the girls, straightening their group into a line.

"He – he asked_ me _to the festival. Last week."

"He _did_?" Lillian didn't mean to sound so surprised – after all, Emmeline was one of the most beautiful girls she knew – she just hadn't known the two her friends.

"Uh-huh," she replied miserably. "I never said anything, because I wasn't sure I was going to accept, but I just decided… and oh, now I can't, can I?" She turned to Grant, whom they consulted on all ethical matters.

He sighed and offered her a pat on the back for consolation. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Emmeline. If he asked you and you like him… well, romance isn't so common for us, is it? You should say yes, if you want to. But talk to your sister first."

Emmeline paused a moment, then nodded and raced ahead. Grant turned to Lillian, shrugging. "One day I'm going to answer their questions wrong…"

_Romance isn't so common for us… romance isn't so common for us… _Had he meant to allude to her, or was he just making Emmeline feel better? Lillian felt her cheeks go red. "Don't worry about it," she said, her throat thick. "You won't."

They strode to school in silence, both braced for a dramatic morning between the sisters. They didn't fight often, but Maysilee might take this personally; and when Maysilee took things personally, there was no telling how long the unpleasantness could last.

However, Emmeline met their arrival with a single shake of her, signifying that they shouldn't bring it up. She hadn't talked to Maysilee about it yet. "I couldn't," she whispered, straight in Lillian's ear.

Lillian nodded imperceptibly, for it seemed Mr. Bode was in a bad mood. Another boy from eleventh year stood at the front of the classroom, his head bowed. She recognized him by face: pale eyes, a mop of dark hair, but she didn't know his name. Embarrassed, she realized that looking at him simply reminded her how attractive Eric was; the two boys' shared features did nothing to commensurate their appearances.

"Mr. Abernathy," Mr. Bode said, raising his voice so the whole class heard. Humiliation. It was a useful tactic; the officials in Panem exerted it whenever possible, particularly in deference to children. "This paper on the history of Panem… you did not put any thought into it, did you? You did not put any effort."

Lillian's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. They'd all written bad papers before; Mr. Bode must have hated this boy especially if he received such punishment for his.

"Can you tell me," Mr. Bode said, his voice so even that it became ominous, "why that is?"

The boy's lips tightened together, screwing up his angular face, and a memory clicked for Lillian. She remembered overhearing a whispered conversation between the Seam boys - one that stopped the moment she walked in. This one – Haymitch, she now remembered – had been sneering at the Capitol, saying dangerous things. People like that made Lillian nervous.

"No reason, sir," he finally said, after a breath. She could see in his face that the words were killing him, and he didn't mean them a bit, but he knew he'd be on the line if he said much more. Rebels like that could get in serious trouble after the first or second offense.

"No reason," Mr. Bode said slowly. "Fine, Haymitch. If that's what you have to say for yourself." He slid a hand into his pocket, causing Lillian's eyes to widen. She felt Emmeline shudder in the desk beside hers. Neither of them had even seen the whip.

"Please put your attention into your studies from now on," Mr. Bode said, lifting the leather between his hands. "Especially the ones about your home." On 'home,' the whip cracked down, leaving a stubborn red welt on his forearms. Haymitch did not even flinch, though the rest of the class did.

Lillian felt positively sick, almost faint as she watched him return to his seat. He only glared out at them, but she was certain that she would collapse if such a thing ever happened to her. She would just cry in front of the class and not care about it, that's how much the whip scared her. Another part of her, another tiny part, wanted to ask just what he'd put in that paper of his. Had it really just lacked effort, or had he said something derogatory.

Feeling her friends relax beside her, Grant's hand gently squeeze her own, she wondered if that boy had the courage they all lacked. The courage someone needed to have if they ever wanted their lives to get better.

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A/N: Many thanks for reading, and I would love a review if you feel so inclined! ;) Happy summer vacation, guys!


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